I have hit the wall that is week two. Massive fatigue. Rheumy eyes. Gums that weep, a mouth that feels like sandpaper. Nosebleeds.
Loose of bowel, I’ve lost five pounds. Neuropathy is both afoot and at hand.
Numb and bloody. Edges and corners raw. But alive.
Alive, alive, alive.
And happy about it.
I had the thought that this is what cancer reduces existence to. Gratitude even in misery. But then I rethought that thought. And this time it came out this is what cancer elevates existence to.
How fucking fantastic is that. This, my friends, is unconditional love. Life, so treasured, that even when it’s all a bit raggedy it remains sought after. Beloved. Adored. Precious.
Something worth fighting for.